


Sound Check

by ElapsedSpiral



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Black Mirror AU, F/M, Gender Weirdness, M/M, this won't be everyone's cup of tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22523059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElapsedSpiral/pseuds/ElapsedSpiral
Summary: "I can't believe we spent this much money so you can play virtual reality FIFA."Black Mirror, Striking Vipers AU ficlet but will still make sense with zero Black Mirror knowledge.Featuring female Stuart (but not really), muscly Murdoc (but not really) and Paula (but not really). Please read the warnings.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot, Paula Cracker/Stuart "2D" Pot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Sound Check

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a book and a play but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so I've written it to get it out of my system. 
> 
> Warnings for: sexism, weird sexual dynamics, gender fluidity and unhealthy relationships. Just a really weird ficlet, basically. Unbetaed.

"I can't believe we spent this much money so you can play virtual reality FIFA."

Stuart stops looking out at the eerily accurate and empty arena and gives Murdoc another glance. Murdoc's slightly too young and optimistically smooth face creases in a smirk. 

"It's not FIFA," Stuart says. "It's ingenious. We can play ten arenas - fifty arenas - all at once, from the comfort of our home."

Murdoc looks at the standing section below them. "How's the audience work then?" 

"We'll see the livestream from one of the venues, I guess."

"Go with Brazil; that lot'll be the most attractive and least dressed." Murdoc prowls around the stage, pausing to flick switches and turn dials on equipment. "I don't like this. Very weird. I'm an analogue man, me."

"More like Stone Age," Stuart mutters. 

"You seriously like this? Isn't the point of being a rock star to go out and sit in the tour bus and fly on the plane and get all sweaty under the stage lights?" 

"This is more environmentally conscious, innit?" 

"Not just bone idleness, then? Not a way of making money in your PJs?" 

"I'm not in my PJs, I'm fully dressed," Stuart says, before clarifying. "In real life. I'm fully dressed in here _and_ in real life."

"I'm not, I've just got my trusty Y fronts on out there."

Stuart wrinkles his nose. "That's why we're wearing the headsets in separate rooms."

"Such a fun and friendly way of making music together."

"Feel free to share any positive feedback you've got, yeah?" Stuart says as he tinkers with one synth. 

His shoulders tense when Murdoc goes suspiciously quiet. When he turns to check on him, Murdoc is shirtless, caped and muscular. 

Stuart gives up on his sound check. "What the fuck? What're you doing?" 

"I found the customisation menu. You just waggle the wotsit," Murdoc explains with a waft of his hand. 

Despite Murdoc's description, Stuart finds it, mind boggling at the options. He selects growing an inch. 

Murdoc's smirk spreads. "Yeah, like you needed to be taller."

"I'm just trying it out." When Stuart sets his hands back on the synth, his wrists twinge at the angle so he resets himself. 

Murdoc rapidly switches between outfits. He goes from a striped sweater to an orange jumpsuit to an old striped shirt and suspenders of Stuart's. 

"Oi, don't be stealing my clothes," Stuart snaps. 

"Does it count if I'm stealing them virtually?" 

"Does it count if I smack you, virtually?" Stuart asks, striding over. 

He gives Murdoc's shoulder an experimental pat. It feels normal. He's tempted to take the headset off to check that Murdoc hasn't snuck into his room but resists. 

"I just think, if we're gonna spend God knows how much on this lot, we might as well get our money's worth," Murdoc says. "Have more outfit changes than Madonna, you know?" 

Stuart lets himself imagine how he'd look if he wasn't so busy with the band, how he'd look if he still worked for his dad, fixing machines and lifting tools all day. He alters his settings accordingly. 

Murdoc grins at the result. "Bit optimistic, don't you think?" 

"Just a bit of muscle."

" _A bit_? Try looking in a mirror, Stu."

Some idea sparks in Murdoc's eyes. 

"What're you doing?" Stuart asks warily. 

Murdoc screws up his face in thought. Then, Murdoc turns into another Stuart. Stuart stares at the warped, subtly wrong version of himself and feels unsettled. The other Stuart grins, too wide and manic. 

"Has it worked?" Other Stuart asks in Stuart's own voice. Other Stuart's eyes widen at the sound. He lifts his hands up to examine. "Fucking hell, this is weird."

"No shit it's weird. Go back to being you."

"How d'you cope with hands this size? I feel like I've got bin lids on the end of my arms."

"I survive," Stuart scowls. "Switch back or I'll turn into you."

"Aw, come on," Other Stuart says with a grimace. "Don't make me look at that. Are you seriously complaining about the view? This is your wet dream, surely?"

"Murdoc, stop being a-" 

"Actually, maybe this isn't _quite_ your wet dream. Maybe it's more-" 

Other Stuart suddenly shrinks, develops tits and gets curves. 

"Look me in the eye and tell me this isn't your ideal woman?" Other Stuart asks in a comically girly voice. 

"That doesn't look as good as you think it does."

"Yeah, the controls are a bit fiddly."

"All you have to do to change settings is think about how you wanna look," Stuart says. "Thinking's always been a challenge for you though, I guess."

Other Stuart morphs back into Murdoc. "Rich coming from you, mate. Call me weird but I've not had a lot of practice thinking about people's faces and outfits in painstaking enough detail to recreate them in virtual reality Sims."

"So is this FIFA or Sims?" 

"It's both. It's a waste of money, Stu. I didn't get famous so I could perform for no-one, sat alone in my Y fronts."

"What I'm hearing is you're on the fence about using this to tour with."

"Something like that," Murdoc says, before looking suddenly thoughtful. 

"I don't dare ask," Stuart mutters as he goes back to fiddling with his equipment. 

"Stu?" 

Stuart grips his synth at the almost-familiar voice. He turns to look at her and sees she's not quite tall enough, with fuller lips and bigger curves. Her mouth purses in a smug smile that isn't totally out of place. 

"Near as damnit, right?" Paula asks, voice a little too low. 

For all the time that's passed, Stuart realises, he's probably misremembering as much as Murdoc. 

"She didn't look like that," Stuart says. 

Paula gets curvier still, softer and gentler looking than before. Her bottom lip catches between her gap teeth.

"I made some modifications," she says, patting down her skimpy black miniskirt. "Some improvements."

"You're an absolute cunt," Stuart snaps. "Don't make me smack you."

"You wouldn't smack a woman."

"You're not a woman."

Paula cups her breasts with a mean smile. "If you say so."

"I'm gonna leave if you keep this up."

"Fine, I'm gonna go in the dressing room," Paula says. "Assuming that door back there actually opens."

"Oh yeah? Gonna eat some virtual M&Ms? Sounds great."

Paula pauses with her hand on the door handle and smiles at him slyly. "No. I'm gonna go and get off."

She's already through the door by the time Stuart's processed her words. 

"What the _fuck_?" 

Stuart slams open the door and finds a standard issue backstage area. Paula keeps walking towards the dressing room. 

"Oi, I'm talking to you!" 

Paula flicks him an amused smirk before letting herself in the dressing room. Stuart slips inside before she gets the door closed. 

She gives him a scowl. "Make it quick then."

The words wrong-foot Stuart. "What?" 

"Tell me your bloody complaints so I can nod along. Then I'm kicking you out and having some fun."

"You're fucking sick."

"Oh come on, every bloke's wondered about it."

"You can't do that as _her_ , it's disgusting!"

"God, you'd think I was actually diddling her," Paula mutters. "I barely look like her and even if I did, it's no skin off her nose, is it? What she don't know can't hurt her."

"Fucking hell."

"I get that you're mortally offended, Stu. Quit milking it and bugger off," she says, making to sit on the couch. 

Stuart grabs her arm. Paula's eyes narrow as she tries to pull free so he grabs the other one. Her hands find his chest and push but he pulls her tighter. Her hands go from pressing to clutching. She tilts her head to look up at him, panting softly. He closes the distance by pressing his mouth against hers. 

Paula whines against his lips before her hands find his hair and grab at it, forcing him closer. They stumble backwards until their legs buckle and they crumple ungracefully to the carpet. She winds up under him, legs spread and mouth open in a silent pant. 

Stuart tries to keep still, tries to ignore how quickly he's getting hard. With small, trembling hands, Paula hikes up her skirt and works down her silky black knickers. Stuart fumbles open his fly and pulls himself out. They watch one another, wide eyed and gasping for breath, as she spreads her legs and he grips her thighs. 

Paula's sobs when Stuart sinks in threaten to make his eyes roll. She's louder than she was before, clinging to him and begging him like she never did before. Stuart grabs her waist and thrusts in hard and fast enough that he can barely catch his breath. Her moans get louder, eyes closed tight as she holds his back. 

It's over quickly. His harsh gasp when he comes bounces off the walls. Paula sobs, practically overwrought, as she shakes with climax. She cups her face as she struggles to steady her juddery, whimpering breaths. When her eyes open, she looks stunned. Stuart drags himself up on trembling legs, ignoring how his knees sting from chafing against the carpet. 

"I-" Paula manages breathlessly as her shaking hands tug up her knickers. 

Stuart puts himself away. He can't manage the button on his jeans so leaves it and stumbles back outside, into the corridor and onto the stage. He walks back over to his synths, places his hands on one and just stares at it, eyes unfocused and mouth dry. 

He hears her footsteps but doesn't turn. "Stuart."

Her voice is softer, more deliberate. Less like Murdoc, less like Paula and more like someone else entirely. 

"Stuart, we don't have to-" 

"I need to go," he insists. He rips the headset off. A horror grips at his throat when he looks down and sees his unbuttoned jeans. Eyes hot with tears, he covers his face with one hand and tries not to think. 

*

Murdoc stares at the empty space by Stuart's synths before looking out at the echoing and empty arena again. When nothing happens and no-one appears, she makes her way backstage and sinks onto the settee. She tries to decide between going back to the reality of sitting in bed wearing spunked-on Y fronts or staying put. She rests a hand on her abdomen and feels how aching and wet and open she is instead. 

Murdoc leaves the headset on and looks at the carpet. She wishes she'd kept her eyes open to watch Stuart, above her, inside her and everywhere. Her heart thuds heavily in her chest and throat. 

After a time, she leans back against the settee and lets her eyes fall closed. They only open when she hears a keyboard start playing onstage. 


End file.
